Deep Scars
by NatD-LE
Summary: Isabella can't handle the weight of her nation on her shoulders, or the scars of the war waging within herself, so when everyone else has failed her, she calls the one person she trusts most to be there for her. Nyotalia Spamano.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Nyotalia.**

**An anonymous request for nyotalia set during the Spanish Civil War from tumblr. Feel free to send me some of your own requests!**

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Chiara sighed and rubbed at her forehead, pencil dancing in between her fingers. Since the war began, she and her sister (as well as the majority of the world) have gotten bombarded with work. Normally, she and Alice would be in the office together to look over and sign documents that had to go back to their boss. However, the younger half of the Italian nation was called to a meeting with their allies. Chiara was left alone.

Her sigh echoed in the otherwise empty room. The silence was relaxing, but it unnerved her a little. She was used to her sister's chatter or the German lady's authoritative voice when she visited. Their Japanese ally didn't talk as often as they did. Now, it was too quiet, and she found it incredibly hard to concentrate. The Italian dame let her chair rock back and forth as she raked her fingers through her hair. She had fixed her headband 4 times this past hour, and the next hour wasn't going by any faster for her. Chiara eyed her phone, debating whether to call Alice and get her to come back, or at least ask how long she will take. Maybe the brunette could take a break to get some coffee?

Just as she reached for her phone, the screen lit up and it started to buzz against the wooden desk top. She snagged it and looked at the caller ID. It made her frown deeper._"Why is Isabella calling?" _Since the war began, things have become too chaotic to keep in touch with her former caretaker. Phone calls came rarely and they never lasted more than half an hour. The last phone call was months ago, when Chiara asked on her sister and boss's behalf for Isabella to join their side in the war. There was silence for a long time before Isabella replied that, _regretfully_, she had too little money to join in the war and wanted to remain neutral.

The Italian was pretty furious, even though she knew Isabella wasn't at fault. The pressure from her boss, the war, her sister and their allies; it all became too much and she snapped at the older nation. "You've always been a fucking coward and you always will be!" She had shouted into the phone before ending the call. By the time she was calm enough to apologize, she lost the free time to call and, eventually, forgot to. Now, seeing the familiar name and number, her stomach twisted with guilt. With a deep breath, the Italian pressed the green button and put the phone to her ear. "Pronto." She tried to maintain a professional voice, like the call didn't faze her.

"Chiara…" Isabella's voice answered. Despite the distortion of her voice from the phone, it sounded a little more… off than usual. It made Chiara's eyebrows crease.

"Isabella?" When the nation didn't answer immediately, she shifted a bit in her seat and spoke again. "Listen, I have work to do, so—"

"No! Please! Don't hang up!" Isabella desperately begged. _"Has she been crying?" _Chiara wondered, confused by the cracking in the Spanish nation's tone.

"Are you okay, Isabella?" There was a long pause before her weak voice spoke again.

"Could you please come over?"

"Uhm, well, like I said, I have a work to—"

"Please!" her voice cut Chiara off. "Everyone else has hung up on me or hasn't answered me! I don't know where else to turn! Don't leave me, please!" She heard a sob that completely rattled her and made her heart squeeze painfully.

"O-okay, okay, it's okay! I'll be right over! F-fuck, don't cry, it'll be alright! I'm leaving now!" Chiara grabbed her coat from the hook and pulled it on while running down to her car, the phone shifting around from hand to shoulder and back to her other hand. "I have to hang up, but I'll be there soon." She didn't get an answer, so she hung up and hurried to start her car and drive off. Her heart was pounding and her head swam with questions. What happened to Isabella? Did someone hurt her? Yell at her? Isabella wasn't the type to cry easily; she'd get upset and pout and maybe tear up a little, but her voice didn't sound like she was just 'tearing up'.

Chiara used every shortcut and back road she knew of to get to Isabella's house as quickly as possible. She drove quickly and couldn't be bothered with some other motorists honking at her and yelling to watch out. She DID take their advice, however, since it wouldn't be smart to cause a car accident. She had to be especially careful once she reached Spain. There was a riot in one street that she had to take an alternate route to avoid. The cities she passed seemed to get messier and more chaotic. Just what happened here?

Sure enough, she finally came to the gravel driveway of the small yet luxurious home she moved out of a couple of decades ago. Coming here always gave the Italian a cozy feeling, seeing all the lights on or the sun illuminating the old colors of the bricks and windows. At this moment, something was clearly wrong. Instead of a light and colorful home, the estate was dark and brooding.

Chiara stepped out of the car and shivered. The sun was close to setting and the air had turned cold. She locked the car with a chirp and walked up the steps to the door. She knocked on the wood and received no reply. "Isabella? It's Chiara! Open up!" She called out. Again, no response. Eyebrows scrunched in concern, she tried to recall where the spare key could be. However, she didn't need it, for when she tried the knob, the door swung open.

She stepped in and shut the door behind her, making sure it was locked. Her eyes examined the room before her. Normally, since Isabella lived alone, she left all the lights on in most rooms so it wouldn't seem so lonely. From what she saw outside and from this room, none of the lights were on. All the light in the whole house peeped through the windows from the setting sun. Not to mention what a _mess _there was. It was dusty and one of the tables in the hall was knocked over. The Italian's heart hammered harder. Perhaps there had been a break in.

Cautiously, the wavy-haired woman went from room to room, examining each one and calling gently for the owner of the house. She made it all the way to the back of the house and found the family room, fire place out of use and all the couches empty except for one armchair. In it was a lump covered by a blanket except for an opening framing the head like a hood. Chiara came rushing closer and kneeled in front of her.

Isabella sat with her knees pressed to her legs under her thick blanket. Her hair was let down from its usual bun or ponytail and hanging in ringlets that framed her face. Her face was clear of any makeup, giving her an unnaturally pale look despite her natural tan. She had dark bags underneath her bloodshot eyes, heavy probably from crying. Her cell phone was clasped in one hand that she stared at until she saw Chiara in front of her.

"Y-you came…" Her eyes were dull and tired, but she still smiled at the sight of her friend. "I was hoping… you'd call first. It's good to see you, mi amada. I've missed you." Her free hand relaxed and opened for Chiara to slide hers into it.

"Isabella.."

"I'm happy that you're here. It's been lonely these past few days. Everyone has been busy with the w-war. I know you've been busy too." The words were happy, but the tone in which she spoke was all wrong. It was strained and forced. "I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to.. come see me." Isabella squeezed her hand gently and her smile faltered for a moment before she seemed to catch herself and kept it on her face.

"You're scaring me, dammit." Chiara admitted softly.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. It's such a mess in here, I'm afraid. I haven't had… time to clean." Her breath hitched just slightly and she began to speak through her teeth like she had been punched in the gut. "A-and I'd turn on the l-lights, but I have to.. save p-power. A-all the old houses use a lot of e-energy. Boss's orders." She cleared her throat and tried to maintain the happy mask, but Chiara could see she was beginning to slip. Her other hand pried the cell phone from Isabella's hand and set it aside before taking the empty hand into her own. She stared down at it.

"Bella." The Italian came closer and coaxed her into looking into her eyes. "Are you okay?" Isabella frowned, as if she didn't understand the question, then laughed humorlessly and looked away.

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be? I'm just a little tired. I've been working a bunch, so—"

"That's a load of baloney." Chiara shook her head. She let go of the Spaniard's hands and reached up to take her face. Her cheeks were cold; Isabella looked surprised by the warmer touch. "I know you, Bella. I know when you're trying to hide something and I know something is wrong."

"I don't—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You called me crying, you look exhausted and you sound like you're in pain. You need to stop trying to hide it and suppress it. Aren't you the one always telling me never to hold back when I feel sad or angry?"

"Y-yes, but—"

"But nothing!" Chiara bit back, glaring straight into the dulled green eyes now. "I am not a child anymore. You don't have to hide things from me because you think I'll be worried or scared. I came here when you called because I care about you, dammit, and I know something is wrong." She paused to take a breath. "It's okay to cry in front of me now. Stop pretending that there's nothing wrong. Now, I'll ask you again: _are you okay_?" There was a long pause where they just stared at one another, soft and insistent hazel eyes staring down green eyes widened in shock.

"I…I'm, um.." Isabella tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Her breaths came out in fast puffs and she reached up to hold Chiara's wrists, hands shaking slightly. The silence became more tense and, finally, the Spanish nation's own personal defenses crumbled. Her eyes watered and her breath hitched. She shook her head against Chiara's palms. "N-no.. no, I'm n-not okay.." She sobbed. Chiara let out a breath and moved closer to take her friend into her arms. Isabella's face burrowed into the crook of her neck and she cried against it. Chiara held her tight, arms wrapped around her waist and freaked out by how much slimmer it was. "It… it h-hurts! It hurt s-so m-m-muuch!"

"I know, I know. It's okay. I'm here. You'll be fine." The younger of the two repeated over and over, rubbing her back through the blanket now laying haphazardly on them both. It had fallen off her head and Chiara now saw how messy and oily her hair had gotten. "God, when was the last time you've had a shower?" She started to stand, but Isabella held her fast.

"N-no! Don't leave! P-please don't leave!" She cried. Chiara kneeled again to try and calm her down. She hushed her and brushed at her wet cheeks and her hair, doing the same things Isabella used to do when she was scared and crying. It seemed to work; her breathing became more steady.

"I'm not leaving, it's okay." She reassured the Spanish woman. Chiara took her hands and pulled her up to her feet along with her. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Isabella hiccuped and nodded in agreement. With her distressed former caretaker in tow, the Italian nation went in search of the bathroom.

"So what happened?" Chiara asked through the shower curtain. She had finally found the bathroom right next to Isabella's bedroom, with a shower head and a tub in one. She ran the water and had to strip the woman of the clothes she was wearing. There wasn't a lot; the Italian assumed they were just pjs, based on how loose they were and the fact that there were no undergarments beneath. It actually made Isabella laugh a little from how flustered she became when stripping her. She made it into the tub on her own and, with the condition that the shower curtain be drawn, Chiara sat on the floor beside the tub.

"It's not surprising that you don't know much about it, since you've been busy with this war. While World War II is going on, my country is in the middle of a Civil War." Isabella sighed, staring down at her hands through the water. "This man, Francisco Franco," She hissed out the name. "has been leading people into a rebellion against the government. They call themselves _los nacionales_."

"Hmm. I might have.. heard about it." Chiara frowned. She remembered back a couple of months ago, a while after she called Isabella to join the war, of her sister announcing that there was fighting within Spain. Another memory came of some papers she and Alice had to sign from their boss, about sending some weapons and troops to a fascist party in Morocco.

"He is trying to gain control of my nation and rule it with an iron fist. He has been leading riots and coups. The Republicans aren't much better than they are. What they're doing…" She trailed off for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was strained. "My people are fighting each other; the land is being divided; the economy is going to shit. I have to listen to two bosses on completely opposite sides." Her breath hitched again and Chiara could hear her moving restlessly in the water. "As a nation, I can't pick sides. I have to go where my people and my government go. Right now, there are two sides playing tug 'o war and it's tearing me apart! If this goes on any longer, I'm gonna go completely _insane_!" There was a loud and deep _plop_ as Isabella brought her fist down into the water and splashed a little against the wall. She wiped her tears away and rubbed the crust from her eyes.

"Bella…" Chiara murmured, stomach twisting painfully as she listened to how much she is suffering from her civil war. She stretched out her hand through the small opening in the curtain at the edge of the tub. A wet hand gently took it. "Has no one tried to help you?" She remembered what Isabella said before, about everyone either hanging up on her or not taking her call. She heard a hum in response.

"A few people have offered some help. Germany wanted to send some support to Franco, but she was too preoccupied. I think Italy sent some reinforcements instead." Chiara hummed in agreement. "Britain stayed blissfully neutral." They both scoffed at the thought of that snobby blonde trying to help Isabella in anything since their long-standing rivalry centuries ago. "Fran has tried to offer her support, but she informed me lately that she decided to not get involved as well." She sniffled and Chiara felt incredibly sorry for her. France was one of her dearest friends. "I understand. All her money and time has been going into the world war. If I had any to spare…"

"You're broke?" Chiara felt wracked with guilt again.

"Yes. I've been sick for quite a while. The country is being bled dry and even I have to ration energy and food."

"Yeah… you've mentioned that." She gave Isabella's hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Yelling at you months ago, over the phone." Chiara felt her squeeze back.

"No, don't worry, I understand. You were under a lot of strain." She felt something soft press to her knuckles. Her lips, Chiara gathered. "Besides, you were right. I am a coward; perhaps if I joined the war anyway, the people wouldn't have revolted." Isabella chuckled bitterly.

"Bella, shut up." The Italian shook her head. "You're not a coward. You never were. I only said that because I was upset." When she was met with silence, she continued. "I-I think you're pretty fucking brave, actually." Chiara's face flushed from giving the compliment. "Months of civil war like that would drive anyone insane, but you're handling it pretty well."

"Really? You say that when you found me unwashed in the dark in a fetal position?"

"Okay, fine, you're a mess, but you still tried to smile and convince me nothing was wrong. It… it reminds me of the old days, when you'd come home bleeding or I'd come to you and see a huge scar on your legs and arms, and you still gave me a smile through the pain. It never mattered if I knew you were faking it. I thought you were stupid and a hypocrite for doing it when you always chastised me for holding in my anger or tears. I still do. But… you're brave for trying."

"Chiara…" She felt another kiss to the back of her hand, this time accompanied by fresh tears dripping onto the back of her hand. "God must have surely answered my prayers for an angel when he sent you down to me." Isabella sighed.

"Shut up, silly Spaniard." Chiara rolled her eyes, her whole face becoming hot and the place where she received the kiss tingling. She gently slid her hand out of the gentle grip and drew the curtain open. Isabella blinked up at her, rubbing away the salty tears from her eyes. She smiled genuinely at the Italian.

"Oh, are you not feeling embarrassed by seeing me naked anymore, Chiara? Maybe you could accept my offer to join me now." Chiara scowled a little at the playful tone, but she felt relieved by the normalcy of it. She reached over and grabbed two bottles on the shelf: shampoo and conditioner.

"Just turn around so I can wash your hair."

"Mmm, if you insist." She shrugged her tan shoulder and shifted in the water so she sat with her knees to her chest and her back to the wall of the tub and to Chiara. Said dame squirted some shampoo into the palm of her hand and began gently lathering it into the dark half-curly hair before her. Isabella made small happy sounds at the way those slender fingers massaged her scalp.

"Close your eyes." Isabella obeyed and felt some water trickle down her face and shoulders a few times, along with some soap, until Chiara was satisfied that there was none left. She squirted some conditioner into her hands and combed at the hair to get the clear substance in between strands and into the roots. She made her tip back her hair to get at the scalp a little easier without getting any in Isabella's eyes, making a face when the water trickled onto her clothes. When she was done, she looked up to see green eyes gazing up at her. "What?" Her eyebrows scrunched together. Isabella smiled in response.

"You make a cute face when you concentrate." Chiara snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thank you for taking care of me, _mi amada_. You might not believe it, but it has always meant the world to me to see you care."

"Ah, y-yeah." Chiara shrugged, looking away sheepishly. "No big deal." She heard some sloshing of the water and looked back to see Isabella turn around and stretch her arms out for her. Chiara leaned forward to receive a very dampening hug. "Dammit, do you have to get all emotional like this while you're in the tub? You're making me wet."

"Oh, am I~?" Isabella joked.

"Not THAT kind of wet, you perv-EERT!" Isabella suddenly yanked at Chiara and dragged her into the tub with a huge _SPLASH. _The Italian sat there in the water, back pressed against the wall with her legs dangling over the side of the tub, stunned and staring at the grinning naked woman holding her, before reacting. "YOU BITCH, THIS WAS A NEW OUTFIT!"

"It's just water; you'll be fine."

"It was dry clean only!"

"It made you look too dull anyway. Too much grey for one person." Isabella gave her a squeeze and Chiara finally just sighed in defeat. Knowing the Spanish ball of sunshine, she'll just keep justifying her actions with every complaint Chiara had. What's done is done and she will just have to accept the fact that she was now in the tub with her naked friend. A fact which made Chiara incredibly flustered.

"Alright, whatever, just… rinse your hair and let's get out of this thing." She mumbled. Isabella sighed but complied, taking out the plug before turning on the faucet and putting her head underneath. Once the conditioner was washed out, they both climbed out. While Isabella dried her hair and body off, Chiara had to take off her dripping wet clothes before looking for a towel. The Spaniard beat her to it and wrapped a fresh towel around her, hugging while rubbing her dry.

"This brings back so many nice memories. I used to love giving you baths when you were little." Isabella cooed. "You were so small that the towels would swallow you up and you always tried to hide in them because you were so embarrassed." Chiara actually envied her younger self now; she wished she could hide in the towel. "I'm very proud. You went from such a cute little girl to an incredibly gorgeous woman."

"Don't get sappy on me now." She swatted at Isabella's arm and looked at her clothes, making a face at the state of them. There was no way she was going to go home in those.

"Chiara?" The softened tone made the Italian look up at the older nation. She looked hesitant and depressed again. "Can you… stay here for tonight? I really don't want to be alone today." A flicker of pain appeared briefly in the Hispanic woman's features and it made her heart drop. The people must be fighting extra hard today. That must be why she called for her.

"Sure. I mean, it's not like I can go anywhere in those clothes." she nodded to the wet suit laying on the counter. "I'll just… text Alice and let her know where I am first."

"Oh thank you! Thank you so much!" Isabella smiled gratefully and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Chiara's lips, making her freeze. "I'm so happy! I'll go find us some pjs. You can hang those clothes on the balcony railing so they can dry." She ran out of the bathroom, presumably to the closet, while Chiara stood stock-still trying to make the gears in her muddled brain start moving again. Her finger tips gently touched her lips, unbelieving that she got a kiss on them. She had been kissed before, of course, but not by a woman and_certainly _not by that particular woman, unless you count her hands and cheeks.

Once her brain began working again, she moved to grab her phone and text Alice. Unfortunately, her cell had been in her skirt pocket when she was so abruptly yanked into the tub. Try as she might, the phone was completely dead. She sighed, grabbed her clothes, and left the bathroom. "Hey, Isabella, can I use your phone?" When she walked in, Isabella had just slipped on her pajama shirt. She nodded and handed her phone over.

"What happened to yours?"

"It got wet along with my clothes." She grumbled in response, draping the clothes over the balcony before shedding her towel and getting dressed in the nightgown Isabella picked out.

"Ohh, pff, sorry." Isabella smiled sheepishly.

"No you're not."

"Am so! Anyway, I hope the nightgown is okay. I didn't have any pajama bottoms that would fit you."

"I'd bet not, fatass." Chiara snorted and crawled into the bed before scrolling through Isabella's phone until she found Alice's number. She typed out a quick text explaining where she is and that she'd be home tomorrow and hit send before handing the phone back. Isabella set the phone aside and opened her arms, earning a long stare from the younger nation.

"What? I like to cuddle something when I sleep, and you're warmer than a pillow." She insisted. Deciding to humor her, Chiara laid down and slid closer to her to let Isabella wrap her arms around her. She smelled the soap and shampoo from her hair. Underneath, she could sense the natural smell of her home; people would always smell like their home. It smelled like tomatoes and sweets and spices. She remembered the days she would cook with Isabella when she was younger, or when she spent free time with her sister cooking some original Italian dishes. It made her smile and press herself closer, her face nestled against her best friend's neck.

"Good night, _mi ángel_. Thank you so much." Chiara heard her sigh into her hair before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Soon, she heard her breathing begin to slow and knew she was drifting off. Ruefully, she wrapped her arms tightly around her. Today, she had seen a once strong nation at her most vulnerable. It was scary, but it wasn't a bad thing in her opinion. The guilt was gone and she felt like they were even closer now than they were before. All those years of being taken care of, it was now the Italian's turn to take care of her. A small whimper escaped the worn Spaniard and, instinctivly, Chiara held her closer.

"It's okay; you're safe now. Good night, Bella."


End file.
